Chapter 32
Nik
I enter my condo. It’s quiet, since Stone and Noelle are still out.
My phone buzzes with a notification. The home screen shows a new email.
I almost ignore it, wanting to toss my phone away, and replay the conversation with my sister over and over.
Something isn’t right, but I can’t put my finger on it.
And I’m sure it’s just me being paranoid.
Eva has always warned me about women and football players.
And I’m not dumb—I’ve read the stories, seen the fallout of what happens if you let emotions and lust sweep you away for a few minutes.
Am I an idiot for thinking it's different with Noelle? Even after just a few weeks?
My phone buzzes with the reminder notification, and I click it open. And like fate is laughing in my face, the picture arrives just as I’m questioning it all.
The image almost collapses me. It’s Noelle, at her editor’s office.
She’s sitting stiff in a chair, shoulders pulled tight, eyes down like she’s bracing herself.
But this isn’t a posed look. Someone took this picture from far away, even though it’s clear as day.
It was not taken from inside that room. Someone was watching.
She told me she was going to speak with her editor, and that she was looking to buy more time. But now seeing this and hearing another reporter asking about Raines, is she lying to me?
My stomach turns. Even with Stone there, someone knew where she was and managed to get this shot.
And they made sure to send it to me, to my personal email, like a threat or a warning.
And the timing, Christ. My sister dropped comments, making it clear she doesn’t want me with Noelle.
That she thinks Noelle is poison to my career.
Then, as if on cue, this picture lands in my lap.
It’s too clean and doesn’t feel like a coincidence.
Are they warning me about her? Or warning me they can get to her?
Send another message echoes in my head.
If Noelle moves forward, even just a mini blog or placeholder piece won’t stay small. The second it goes live, the internet will rip it apart, spin it out of control, and every headline will have my name in it.
“Saint Nik Sinned in College.”
“The Saint isn’t what he seems.”
Or worse?
The story will take off, and names will be exposed. And then we’re all in danger.
I grit my teeth. My career couldn’t survive that storm. And Noelle knows it. She’s caught in the middle, but in the end, everyone always saves themselves. No matter what promises they give you.
I stare at the photo, bile rising in my throat. Who sent it? Why now? My sister’s warning and this email are all too damn close. Somebody wants me scared.
And it’s working.
I grip my phone. I need to call Noelle, and see how she’s acting. If someone got to her, she could end this all right now. I need to call Dante. Do I have him press in and start asking around? It could be risky.
Without thinking, I walk straight to her room, the room in my condo. Her stuff should be in my bedroom, and that thought hits hard, even as I circle around the room. I know I shouldn’t. This is a breach of trust. But I have to know. I have to see if she's playing me.
She talked about my sister and other company names. Is she gathering info to nail me with it, or help me? I already know what I did, but how was it cleaned up? The whole situation ended too perfectly, which makes me think Noelle is onto something.
I run my fingers over her notepad, seeing notes scribbled all over. I move it aside and read the second pad underneath.
“EP INC., Papas & Family, Papas Playmakers. Secure the underdog.” It's her company, my charity, my sister's slogan. I grab the pad and pick it up, and something falls to the ground. I see it's a credit card, but when I reach for it, I realize it’s the hotel key card. Touchdown Towers.
I flip it between my fingers. “She kept it?”
My thoughts spiral. Is she feeling it, too? Or is this just something to add to her collection of stories?
I hit Dante's number before I’ve even thought it through. He picks up on the second ring, his voice rough. “Nik?”
“You busy?” My voice comes out harder than I intend.
“For you? Never.”
“I just got an email. It’s a picture of Noelle at her editor's office.” I scrub my hand over my face.
“I thought she wasn’t going into the office until we figured this out?”
“We talked and decided she has to keep up a bit of a normal schedule for appearance’s sake. But she promised she wasn’t writing it.” I blow out a breath. “But this picture was shot through a window. Clear but not right next door. Someone’s watching her.”
There’s a pause. Then, with an assured tone, he says, “Forward it to me.”
“I need you to ask around. Figure out who sent this, who had eyes on her. The timing of things is too weird and close.”
“What do you mean? What else has happened?”
I pace her room, glancing around at her stuff. A bag, her perfume, her pens, and pads. Candy supply.
“Not over the phone. I’ll be down in the morning.”
What if it comes down to Noelle having to choose her career, the thing she’s worked so hard for from the ground up, or me?
I'm nothing to her. I’m just an article, just a guy she took to bed.
Unless it’s not just that. But if she caves, my NFL future burns.
If she resists, her own career could go up in flames. Either way, someone loses.
I stare at the photo again, and my chest tightens.
I'm not afraid for myself. I’m scared for everyone this would affect. My boys, my team, my college, my family. But the thought that hits the hardest and out of nowhere? It’s of her looking at me one day and deciding I’m the reason she lost everything, and that I wasn’t worth the fight.